


One of Those Days

by avenginginsanity



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adoption, I can't believe the fucking tag, ManDadlorian, Semi-Nonverbal Character, Sign Language, is literally "Baby Yoda", rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21895714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avenginginsanity/pseuds/avenginginsanity
Summary: Sometimes, speaking is a little too hard.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 306





	1. Chapter 1

Din woke up that morning feeling tired and bone-weary. Seeing the Child sleeping quietly in the make-shift bassinet next to him made the recent pain worth it, but he still felt a deep sense of tiredness. It was one of those days.

It took him a few minutes longer than usual to drag himself out of bed, to clean his face and reattach each piece of his armor. By the time he was sliding his helmet back on, the Child was also stirring. The moment the Child opened their eyes, Din reached down to pick them up.

“Hungry?” Din tried to ask, but his voice failed him.

Oh. One of those days for sure. Instead, he waved at the Child, before dragging his hand, flat, down from his mouth to his stomach, head cocked, though he didn’t truly expect an answer.

Together, they walked out into the main belly of the ship, where the kitchen- or what functioned as a kitchen, at least- lay. Din sat the Child down on the table and pulled open the fridge, rooting around for something to eat. He had picked up some fresh fruit on the last stop, which would make a good treat for breakfast if served along with some of the protein-rich soup leftover from yesterday.

As he handed the Child a small handful of berries, he pointed to the berries then brought his right hand up to his face, folded with his thumb to his fingers, tapping on his helmet about where his mouth would be. The child watched attentively but didn’t react other than taking a big mouthful of the fruit.

Din heated up the two cups of soup. As he did, he pointed to the soup, then tapped his fists together, then brought his hand up to his mouth, making a claw shape.  _ I’m heating it up.  _ Then, he held up three fingers. Paused. Looked at the Child’s small hand, which only had three fingers. Right. Instead, he tapped his right thumb against his right ring fingertip, then quickly pointed forward.  _ Three minutes. _

The Child finished their fruit and cooed, reaching up. There was less than a minute left, so Din shook his head no, but grabbed a small mug to pour a bit of soup into. The Child seemed to like the soup, and it had plenty of protein in it, at least. Din had no idea what the Child’s people typically ate or even what they needed to eat. He hoped the Child was getting all the nutrients they needed.

Kriff, he was  _ not  _ prepared to be taking care of a small child, even if that small child was apparently older than him. Especially not if that child was the subject of the largest bounty he’d ever seen.

Said child cooed at him, reaching up for the now-warm mug of soup, oblivious to the danger they were in at every moment. Din handed the soup over easily and the Child immediately started to chug it down. Sighing, Din gently pushed the lip of the mug down a bit and shook his head. He dragged his hand up his wrist.  _ Slowly.  _ He let go of the mug and kept an eye on the Child as they started drinking again, though not any slower.

Din gave up and did the same, enjoying the feel of the soup warming him from the inside. He leaned back against the counter and took a moment, appreciating the soup, the silence (well, except for the Child’s rather large slurps), the presence of the Child (even despite those loud slurps), and the fact that, for now, they were safe.

It could have been five minutes, it could have been fifteen, but eventually, they both had finished their soup and it was time to do work once more. Din stood up from where he’d been leaning against the counter and held his hand out to the Child, head cocked to the side. The Child stared at him, then put their little hand in Din’s larger one.

Din sighed but smiled. He shook his head and booped the Child on the nose. He pointed to the mug and then brought his hand to his chest, tapping the Beskar once.  _ Can I have that? _

The child didn’t respond. Din slowly reached out and pulled the mug away. The Child whined, but let it go without argument.  _ Thank you,  _ Din signed with his free hand, bringing it up to his mouth then down to the child.

The Child looked at his hand contemplatively, then repeated the gesture.

It was the cutest thing Din had seen, literally ever, and his heart just about melted right then and there. He gently cupped the Child head, smiling when the Child leaned into his hand.

Sadly, he broke away to bring the mugs over to the wash tank and dropping them in. Hopefully, it was working properly, now. The sonics were still a little off after the kriffing Jawas had tried to take the ship apart. He’d fixed it, he thought, but you never really knew sometimes. The antibacterial spray seemed to work fine, which was the important part.

That done, Din picked the Child up and headed to the cockpit. They were headed to Siskeen, which might be a little risky, but it was a small planet with a very small Imperial presence and a slightly less-small, but still weak, Alliance presence. Hopefully, both sides would be distracted by each other and leave him and the Child alone. He just needed supplies- food and fuel, mostly, but some clothing and blankets for the Child would be nice as well. And some funds, because he was running much too low on money.

He gently placed the Child in the make-shift child seat he had created out of a spare box and some blankets.  _ Siskeen  _ he spelled out, carefully using the three-fingered variation of Standard Galactic Sign Language instead of his usual five-fingered letters. He gestured between the Child and himself then took both fingers and pointed outward, before spelling the name again.  _ We’re going to Siskeen.  _ Then he looked out the view shield and, to himself, added,  _ I hope it’s safe. _


	2. Chapter 2

Din carefully landed The Razor Crest at one of the outposts, thankful that no one had tried to contact him to ask for his details. The moment they stopped moving, the Child crawled out of their seat and started toddling toward the release hatch. Din quickly grasped them, pulling them away from the slowly opening door.

Honestly, it was like the Child had no sense of danger! The Child whined a little but decided to turn and reach up instead, as if asking to be picked up.

Kriff. They were  _ too cute _ .

Din obliged them, then, picking up the small body and carefully tucking them into his left arm, tugging part of his cape over his shoulder to hide the Child as much as possible.

They exited the ship that way, the Child’s ears twitching curiously, and the Mandalorian’s eyes searching cautiously. He quickly spotted a technician and made his way over. Time to test his voice again.

“Fuel?” He asked, forcing the word out.

“Kriff! You startled me!” The young technician said, jumping. “Uh, yes, hello. You just need fuel? Uh- you are the one that just landed, yes?”

Din nodded, turning to point at his ship, just to clarify.

“Then, yeah, we can fuel your ship. Right now the prices are at 19.7 creds a gallon or 5.9 wupiupi per gallon. If you have zemids or nova crystals, though, you’ll have to speak with my boss first. And, no, the cred price is not subject to bartering.”

Din groaned but nodded. “Half and half?”

“Sure,” the technician typed something into the padd he was holding, then added, “I need you to pay at least half now- just an estimate, we’ll charge you the rest once we know how much fuel you took. It’s just that we’ve had a lot of fill and runs recently.”

Din did so without complaint, unwilling to get on the technician’s bad side. A happy fueler provided better security, after all. Din opened his mouth to ask a question, then stopped. Ugh. He took a deep breath, “How long can it stay here?”

“The ship?” The technician asked. Din nodded. “You have 5 hours free, then it's 2 wupiupi per hour after or 10 for the night if you pay ahead. 30 if you pay in creds, though.”

Din sighed but paid for the night anyway.

Din and the Child headed out into the city, then, following the sounds of a market place. It’d be better to get at least a few supplies now, in case they had to flee later during his search for some work.

The market was small, but bustling with people. A fruit-seller yelled about perrens, whatever those were. A mother scolded her child while nearby another child cried, sitting on the street. A butcher bragged about having the cheapest meat. It was chaos, and it was stressful. Din clenched his hand and entered anyway, grateful that his helmet blocked out at least some of the noise.

He tucked the child safely into his arm again and went back to wandering the street. A stall of beautifully dyed clothing called to him, and he approached it, though he was wary of the prices- for the clothing to be dyed such vibrant blues and purples, the price must be quite high.

“Morning,” the woman at the stand said quietly from where they were sitting on a stool. She wore a dress made out of a gorgeous red material that flowed around their feet. She was also heavily pregnant.

Din nodded in greeting. The woman watched him carefully as he perused the wares, eyes sharp. He made no move to touch anything, almost afraid of ruining the beautiful fabric. He shook his head, there was no way he could afford any of it. Even if he could, it’d likely be a waste: both he and the Child were more than likely to stain or bleed through the fabric before long.

He went to turn away when the woman spoke up. “Um. I just happened to, uh, notice you-” she stopped when she had his full attention. He saw her visibly collect herself, then blurt out, “I saw you were holding a baby and wondered if you wanted me to teach you how to wrap the baby to your chest or, well, your chest plate? Um. 15 credits will get you a lesson and whatever piece of fabric you want to use!”

Din cocked his head to the side, visibly thinking about the offer. He knocked quietly on his beskar-covered chest, then knocked downward on the air in front of him, in lieu of knocking on his other hand, which was holding the Child.  _ Beskar is hard. _

“Oh!” The woman said, moving to stand up.

_ No, no, no,  _ Din gestured,  _ sit down. _

_ I’m fine,  _ she signed. Then, moving her first fingers around each other in a circle,  _ sign?  _ She added. She cocked her head, gesturing to him then repeating the previous sign.  _ You sign? _

Din nodded. The Child, peeking their head out of his cloak, giggled and reached out.

The woman gasped audibly, then signed  _ cute!  _ very enthusiastically, her finger rotating against her cheek quicker than he thought possible.  _ Can I hold them? _

Din hesitated. It was unlikely that this woman was a threat. And even if they were, no matter how strong or deadly she usually was, right now she was heavily pregnant and had a hard time even simply standing up. She couldn’t run far.

The Child reaching further out of his arms was what settled the decision, though, as he almost dropped the child into her waiting arms.

The woman caught them deftly, holding them in practiced arms. “Hello,” she said, waving to him at the same time. The child waved back. “What’s their name?” She asked, while also trying to sign the word  _ name  _ with one hand.

Uh. Kark.

_ Ad.  _ Din signed, finally. Hopefully, she didn’t know Mando’a, and that he’d just named the Child, well,  _ child. _

The woman smiled and gently bounced the little one a couple times in her arms.  _ Ready?  _ She signed, then, shifting the Child to her left side. She gestured broadly to the cloth laid out on the table.  _ Pick.  _ She added.

There were so many options- mostly blues and purples, a few pieces here or there in various shades of grey. Ironic, perhaps. Reliability and luck, some mourning.

He was tempted to pick something in a lucky purple, but realistically, a grey would stand out much less.

Then he saw the perfect piece- a muted grey cloth with simple designs in white a blue. Blue for reliability, grey for mourning, white for innocence or new beginnings. He would mourn his old clan as he and the Child started their own clan of two.

He pointed to the cloth and the woman nodded, gently setting the Child down onto the fabric-filled table and pulling his chosen fabric out of the pile. She held the cloth up to him, eyes squinted in concentration, before walking around him contemplatively. Din cocked his head in confusion.  _ Measure.  _ She signed with a slight laugh- she was measuring and estimating how much of the fabric he’d need. Then, satisfied, apparently, with her measurements, she cut the fabric and handed it to him. She gestured to him, asking him to move closer.

_ How old?  _ She asked, smiling at the Child.

Din sighed audibly, unsure what to tell her- apparently Ad’ika was 50. Maybe. But they were also a child. So he shrugged and signed,  _ I don’t know.  _ The woman raised an eyebrow at him.  _ Adopted.  _ He explained. Then he added,  _ Walks but not speaks.  _ What else might signify approximate age?  _ Eats whole food. Is not human,  _ he added, then,  _ obviously. _

The woman stared at him.  _ Toddler, then?  _ She guessed. Din shrugged.

_ My guess, yes.  _ He looked at the somewhat worried woman, then down at Ad’ika. Suddenly, words flowed out of him in a way that rarely happened.  _ I- I took them from an abusive situation. They might be well within normal speaking development age-wise, but I have yet to hear them speak anything. They seem to understand at least some of what I say to them, though.  _ He looked up at the woman again.  _ I don’t have anyone to ask, to turn to about this. I don’t know what species they are, where they’re from, if they still have a birth family- I don’t- _

_ Calm.  _ The woman said. Din stopped signing, his hands shaking slightly.  _ You’re too fast,  _ she said then.  _ What is ‘abusive?’  _

Din spelled out the word instead, then added,  _ They had no physical injuries but they were- not good people. _

The woman nodded understandingly, setting down the fabric to say,  _ They seem happy with you,  _ she said.  _ That counts for something. No parent ever really understands what they’re doing with their first child. All one can do is try their best to keep their child healthy and happy. _

She picked up the fabric again and slowly wrapped it around herself, gesturing to where the child would normally sit. She then undid the wrapping and showed him again, this time carefully cradling the Child in the fabric. Then she gestured to him, handing him the fabric.

She had him practice it at least a dozen times before she seemed satisfied. Then she taught him another version, that would place the child at his back. That, he only had to practice maybe seven times, before the woman was satisfied.

_ Good, good.  _ She signed, as Din gently arranged the Child on his front, nestled comfortably in the fabric.

_ Thank you,  _ Din signed.

_ You are welcome. Your child is cute enough to have paid in smiles,  _ the woman replied, laughing slightly.

Din turned to walk away, but decided to capitalize on the Ad’s adorableness,  _ Do you have suggestions on where to purchase food? _

The woman hummed, then said,  _ Yes, I will point out the best places for produce and bread, though I do not eat meat, so I cannot help you there.  _ She pointed out a few stalls, told him how to get to the best bakery, and then sent him on his way.

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally created part of a new sign language made specifically for a species with three fingers (since, as far as I know, all current sign languages are for five fingered species, as humans are, in fact, typically five fingered). That's how much of a nerd I am.
> 
> Also. I love these two So Much.


End file.
